


Assorted Drabbles

by heartfeltword



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Angst, Crack, Fluff, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-10
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-06-07 15:21:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 5,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6810823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartfeltword/pseuds/heartfeltword
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of short drabbles usually from my tumblr. Prompts will be in each chapter. NSFW will be noted in the title if applicable.</p>
<p>Incomplete by nature.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Don't Lie to Me - Stancest

**Author's Note:**

> Angsty Stancest based on the prompt: “If you don’t want to talk about what happened, then say so. Don’t just lie and say it’s fine.”

“So,” Stan said slowly, “what was it like?”

Ford grimaced; he’d been casually avoiding answering any and all questions from his younger twin all day. It had been pretty easy; Ford could turn the conversation around to asking about the younger set of twins in the house or what had happened to their parents or excusing himself to work on dismantling the portal he created. Sometimes he gave vague answers saying nothing much happened or whatever other bullshit he could come up with on the spot. Now he had nothing, he was cornered in the kitchen where he thought he’d be able to sneak away with a cup of coffee. Stanley was standing behind him, blocking the doorway with his arms folded.

“Are you ok?” Stan pressed, his dark eyes scanning Ford’s face.

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” He pressed harder.

“Stanley.” Ford snapped.

“Look,” Stan’s eyes narrowed, “I get it, you’re pissed at me for bringing ya back or some shit like that. Whatever. But you haven’t answered any of my questions.” Ford opened his mouth to retort but Stan spoke first, “I ain’t done talkin’ yet, Sixer. I’m yer twin, hell, when we were teenagers were were a helluva lot more than twins.” Ford looked away embarrassed by the actions he had done with his brother - his twin - in his younger years. “All I’m asking is if you’re ok, honestly. I’m sure a lotta shit happened t’ you beyond that portal and yea, we have a lotta shit t’ talk about before you went crazy on me and ended up in that portal.”

“I didn’t go crazy on you, Stanley!” Ford couldn’t hold back the anger and venom in his voice. “I was asking you to do the first worthwhile thing in your life! And from the looks of it,” he gestured to the kitchen that was falling apart, “you still haven’t done anything worthwhile.”

“Hey,” Stanley snapped pointing a finger at the elder twin, “I worked damn hard t’ get that portal up and runnin’ and bring you back because I lo-” He stopped. Ford stared. He almost said that dangerous word. A word they once mumbled to each other in the comfort of their blanket fort. A word they both truly believed in when they were young and naive. They were no longer young and certainly not naive anymore. They knew love didn’t exist. Never has and never will. Stan huffed and looked away, a tactic he used when he was younger and trying to mask his embarrassment. “Look, I didn’t spend thirty years t’ bring ya back for ya t’ insult the house I made when I had a single peso in my pocket.”

“I didn’t ask-”

“You didn’t ask me anything,” Stan cut him off, “just take some stupid book and get far away from you.” Stan huffed again, “We’re getting off topic. Are you ok?”

Ford looked into his coffee cup as he tried to find a way around answering. “I’m fine.” He replied dryly.

“If you don’t want t’ talk about what happened, then say so. Just don’t lie and say it’s fine. You may have been outta my life for damn near forty years but yer still my twin, Sixer, and I can tell that you’re not fine.”

Ford wouldn’t meet his twin’s gaze. He didn’t want to talk about anything. He wanted to get angry at Stanley so he’d forget what he was talking about and be blinded by rage. It was so much easier to be angry at his twin than admit he wasn’t ok.

“We’ve had enough of lies and hatred.” Stan’s voice was surprisingly gentle. “We’ve got a lotta shit we have t’ talk about but just don’t lie t’ me. If ya don’t wanna talk about something, fine, just tell me. Alright?”

Ford finally looked up, Stan looked so sad. Ford couldn’t understand it. Stan should be angry and trying to throw punches at Ford again. Stan shouldn’t have almost said that he loved Ford because there was no way he could still love him after all the shit Ford put him through - and that Stan caused himself too. But if he didn’t want Ford to lie than he had no right to lie to Ford, right? Right? Fuck. Ford had spent how many years lying to himself? Telling himself he was ok, that he was strong, that he didn’t still love and miss his twin so much. For the first time in several decades Ford sighed and felt his body slump. He didn’t want to fight. He was so tired of fighting. He was pushing 70 for Christ’s sake! He should be enjoying a cold beer on a beach somewhere warm thanking whatever higher power took pity on him to bring him back home to Earth.

“You’re right.” Ford whispered.

“Can I get that in writing?” Stan flashed him a dangerous grin.

“Absolutely not,” Ford returned with a deathly glare. “I don’t want to talk about what happened. Not right now and probably not ever, but,” Ford sighed, “you’re right, I’m not ok. I’ve seen a lot of terrible things… I’ve done a lot of terrible things. But I don’t want to talk about it.”

There was a brief silence. Ford wondered if Stan would continue to pester him with questions. He didn’t want to talk about it. What happened happened and it shaped who he was today.

“Do ya wanna sit and watch a movie with me?” Stan asked so casually it startled Ford.

He thought about it for a moment. He had to go dismantle the portal before all hell broke loose. But he also wanted a little time to relax and remember the comforts he lost in the multiverse; namely the company of his twin. “Yes,” Ford breathed, “I’d like that.”

Things were far from over. Ford was still very angry at Stan and he could sense his younger twin felt the same way but it didn’t matter at that moment in time. They squeezed into Stan’s only chair in the living room and found an old movie Stan apparently loved but Ford had never heard of. Stan patted Ford’s knee, three little pats, something he did when they were younger and Ford was upset about getting a bad grade or having someone bully him again. Ford had almost forgotten what it felt like to have Stan by his side. He wasn’t ok, nothing was, not by a long shot, but as long as Stan stopped pestering him with questions he’d be honest with his twin once again… as long as the portal didn’t cause a rift that would tear the universe apart.


	2. Grammar Stanley - Stancest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 100 word Stancest drabble based on the prompt “It’s a hobby of mine to prove you wrong.”

“Look at that jellyfish, Sixer!”

“That’s not a jellyfish that’s a Portuguese Man O’ War, Stanley.”

**_-15-_ **

“You know what they always say: red sky at night sailor’s take warning!”

“It’s red sky at night sailor’s _delight_ , Stanley.”

**_-29-_ **

“We can’t build a telescope in a day, Sixer. Romania wasn’t built in a day!”

“That’s Rome, Stanley.”

**_-42-_ **

“That’s the Big Dipper.”

“No, Stanley, that’s the Little Dipper.”

**_-57-_ **

“Are these tally marks all the time we’ve had sex?”

“No, they’re all the times I’ve proven you wrong.”

“Wait- you what?”

“It’s a hobby of mine to prove you wrong.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to send me prompts at heartfeltword.tumblr.com!


	3. Those Clumsy Twins - Stancest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 300word fluffy Stancest based on the prompt “I tripped on nothing in the middle of the hallway and people are staring and I want to die but you spontaneously trip and lie down on the ground with me thank you you’re an angel”

Ford was the clumsiest person in high school. He was sure of it. He tripped on nothing in the hallway and now he was just laying there with his books scattered in front of him wishing he could just die. Classmates were staring at him; he didn’t need to stand out even more, his extra fingers already made him someone to laugh at. And now here he was on the floor. He wished the floor would just open him up and swallow him whole.

_ Thump. _

Ford rolled his head to the side to see his younger twin grinning at him. Stanley fell right beside Ford with the stupidest grin on his face. Ford knew it was no accident that caused Stan to trip, like how Stan ended up with punch on his prom suit after Ford had punch thrown in his face.

“Oops,” Stan said lamely. “Guess we should watch our step, huh, Sixer?”

“You’re such an idiot.” Ford rolled his eyes but smiled regardless.

A few people chuckled - oh those Pines twins - and they stopped staring. Ford forgot about them as the twins sat up and started to gather Ford’s discarded books. Stan made a point to grab Ford’s hand a few times and give him a dorky grin, nobody would think anything of it - they were twins after all.

-

Ford pulled Stan under the stairwell and pressed their lips together. It was a hungry kiss that Ford ended too quickly. “Thank you, Knucklehead.” Ford wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Stan laughed, “No problem, Poindexter!” Ford knew Stan made himself a fool so Ford would pull him away and kiss him hard in thanks. Ford hated being the center of attention and Stan knew just how to defuse that attention. Ford loved him for that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to send me prompts at heartfeltword.tumblr.com!


	4. Special Pencils - Fiddlestan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on the prompt “I need to break into this classroom to get my pencil bag back, and someone told me that you’re good at picking locks sTOP LAUGHING I NEED MY PENCILS”
> 
> Three short drabbles about Stan helping Fiddleford get his pencils back. Kind of one sided Fiddlestan.

Fiddleford shifted from foot to foot as he tried to figure out what he was going to do. His pencils were locked in his classroom and they were his most favorite pencils ever. He’d been distracted by the lecture and forgot to pack up his pencils before he hurried off to grab dinner. And since he was in the last class of the day the room was locked and abandoned and he wouldn’t be able to retrieve his pencils until Monday night which means they’d be gone.

Fiddleford nibbled on his lower lip as he knocked on a familiar door. He’d come to the Pines twins apartment several times; mostly to work on projects with his classmate Stanford. That wasn’t why he was knocking on the door at almost 9 on a Friday night. The door creaked opened and Ford quirked an eyebrow.

“Fiddleford?” The six fingered genius asked but he opened the door and let the engineer into the dirty apartment. The TV was chattering in the distance but Fiddleford didn’t see the other twin in sight.

“Uh, howdy,” Fiddleford felt his face heating up at the awkward situation, “is Stanley home?”

“Stanley?” Ford looked confused as Fiddleford nodded.

\--

Stanley wouldn’t stop laughing. Fiddleford was bright red trying to hide his embarrassment.

“Stanley, please!” Fiddleford pleaded.

“I’m sorry,” Stan said grinning over at the engineer for a moment before turning back to the door he was currently trying to unlock. “Yer just too funny, Fidds.”

Fiddleford’s stomach fluttered, his face got hotter and he looked down the empty hallway. Stan continued to snicker under his breath as he worked on the lock. Fiddleford didn’t want to admit that he might have a little crush on Stan; being this close and listening to his laughter certainly wasn’t helping the situation. 

\--

_ Click _ .

“There ya go Fidds,” Stanley opened the door and let the smaller man rush into the dark room. He didn’t even bother turning on the lights as he hurried up the steps to his usual spot. Fiddleford sighed loudly as he found his pencils right where he left them. “Ya get ‘em?” Stan called in the darkness.

“Yes, thank you so much, Stanley!” Fiddleford returned and beamed up at Stan.

“Fidds, I told ya a thousand times, ya can just call me Stan.” Stan rolled his eyes as he nudged Fiddleford out of the room.

“I-I know.” The engineer turned red as he watched the other man lock the door. It was almost like nothing ever happened.

“So, what’s this special pencil like?” Stan asked as he stuffed his hands into his pockets.

“Uhm,” Fiddleford looked down at the hot pink pencil in his hands.

Stan snorted. “Oh my  _ God _ .”

“Don’t laugh!” Fiddleford shrieked as he hid the pencil away. “My mah got it for me on vacation once! ‘Sides it writes like a dream.”

Stan rolled his eyes as he held the door open for Fiddleford. “Whatever ya say, Fidds.” They walked in silence for a moment before Stan spoke again, “Next time ya need me t’ rescue yer pencils just send me a text alright? Or… anytime ya wanna chat.”

Fiddleford blushed but nodded, “‘Course.”

They fell silent but it wasn’t uncomfortable. 

“Hey, Stan… thank you.” Fiddleford spoke softly.

“No prob.” Stan grinned at the smaller man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to send me prompts at heartfeltword.tumblr.com!


	5. Wrong Name - Fiddleauthor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little drabble based on this prompt: “hey so I gave you a fake name when I ordered my coffee but you wrote your number on my cup and we arranged a date now how do I tell you that the foundings of our relationship were based on a lie” au

Stanford wasn’t sure why he didn’t give his actual name to the barista but he didn’t. He said his name was James. He was stuck. The young man had written his number on the side of Ford’s coffee cup with the wrong name written just above the number. Great.

“Have a nice day.” The young man smiled warmly at Stanford. Ford mumbled a response. He was handsome! How had Ford never noticed him before? Thick brown hair tied back into a tiny ponytail, warm eyes, a large nose with small glasses perched on top.

Ford walked out of the coffee shop staring at his cup. It clearly had the name James written on it and a number that was not his. Now what?   
-

“I wasn’t sure if you’d agree to lunch…” The young man, Fiddleford, sounded nervous as the pair walked into a little local restaurant.

“Heh, no problem.” Stanford nibbled on his lip wondering how to tell the other his name wasn’t James.

-

“My name isn’t James.” Stanford blurted out over dessert.

Fiddleford laughed. Honestly laughed. “I know that. You’re in the same Physics class as me, Stanford.”

Ford’s face turned bright red. “Y-you w-what?”

“Yea, been admirin’ you fer a little while now.” Fiddleford blushed, looking down at his slice of pie. “I gotta apologize, part of th’ reason I put my number on yer cup was cuz I wanted t’ see if ya’d keep it up that yer name was James.”

“I-I-” Ford was a stammering mess. “I’m sorry!”

Fiddleford laughed again, it was a beautiful sound that made Ford feel funny. “Don’t worry about it, Stanford, I was pullin’ ya leg anyways. But,” Fiddleford glanced up at Ford with a small smile, “James would be a pretty nice name fer you.”

“You think?” Ford brightened up considerably.

“Sure do! But I like Stanford more.” Now it was Fiddleford’s turn to blush and look away.

-

“Don’t laugh!” Ford pleaded.

“You gave him the wrong name!?” His younger twin was doubled over laughing.

“I-I” Ford didn’t know what to say. “We’re dating now!” He blurted out.

“Congratulations bro-bro.” Stanley grinned, “Gonna have a great story t’ tell yer kids.”

“K-kids!? Stanley! We started dating _today_ we’re not getting married or having kids.”  
“You say that now but just you wait. You’ll marry that nerd and you’ll adopt nerdy little babies and be scientists or some shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to send me prompts at heartfeltword.tumblr.com!


	6. Those Damn Onions - Stancest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ford thought Stan was having a panic attack but he was just crying because he was cutting onions.

Ford yawned as he sauntered into the kitchen to refill his coffee cup. He assumed it was midday from the light flooding into the hallway as he walked. He’d been in the basement working on cleaning the place up all night. His feet shuffled along the worn floorboards, listening to them creak beneath him when he heard a snuffle. His eyes flew open. Someone was crying. The only person in the house was Stanley, his younger twin. Ford hurried into the kitchen where he found his brother bent over the counter. The younger twin sniffled again and rubbed his face on his shoulder.

“Stanley?” Ford asked.

He turned, his eyes were red and watery and he sniffled loudly.

“Oh, Stanley,” Ford cooed as he went to his twin and pulled him into a hug, “you’re ok, you’re safe, everyone is safe.” Since saving the world Stan not only had memory lapses but he had panic attacks and nightmares that Bill was coming back and everyone was going to die. Ford hated those panic attacks because he felt so helpless, Stan would just cling to him and sob as Ford told him over and over that Stan was ok and everyone was alive. 

“Ford.” Stan creaked.

“Shhh.” Ford shushed his twin, “You’re ok. Bill isn’t coming back. You saved us, Stanley.”

“Ford.” Stan spoke again, his voice stronger this time. Ford pulled back a fraction of an inch and looked at his twin. “I was cutting onions.” Stan said matter of factly, gesturing to the cutting board behind him.

“Oh.” Ford said lamely.

Stan always cried when he cut onions, Ma would tease him when they were kids helping her cook dinner. Apparently it was still a thing. Stan wiped snot on his shoulder again and pulled away from Ford who dropped his hands to his sides. “Much as I appreciate you always tryin’ t’ make me feel better I really don’t need to be coddled while I’m makin’ dinner.”

“I-” Ford stammered.

“Yea, you didn’t know. For someone so smart you don’t think very much.” Stan jabbed before he returned to cutting the onions. Ford bristled at the comment. He thought his brother was seriously upset and this was how he thanked him? “Now, you’re makin’ me uncomfortable, get outta my kitchen.” Stan glared at Ford over his shoulder where the older twin was still hovering behind him.

“It’s  _ my _ kitchen, Stanley.” Ford jabbed back.

Stan just rolled his eyes and pushed Ford away with his shoulder. “Whatever just get out.” Ford huffed and grumbled as he filled up his coffee cup once more. Just as he was heading out the door his brother called to him. “Hey Sixer, thanks fer caring.”

“Of course I care, Stanley,” Ford’s words had a bit more bite than he intended, “you’re my brother, knucklehead.”

Stan stiffened for a split second, “Yea yea, now get out. But I expect you up here for dinner at 6'o clock.”

“Yes, Ma.” Ford rolled his eyes but left without another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to send me prompts at heartfeltword.tumblr.com!


	7. Practicing - Stancest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got a drabble prompt sent to my tumblr! (I won't share your name here but thank you very much for the prompt!)  
> "I would like to request a Stancest drabble prompt with Ford practicing confessing to Stan in a mirror and Stan pops his head in, oblivious, and Ford gets all suspicious and sweaty from almost getting caught. Any time period will do."

Ford cleared his throat as he stared at himself in the mirror. He was just talking to himself, practicing how to say how he really felt about someone. Yet his cheeks were bright red and he was stammering over his words already. It wasn’t his fault he looked almost identical to the person he wanted to confess to. Maybe that was why it was so difficult as he stared himself down in the mirror. This wasn’t just any girl or guy he was going to confess to, it was his brother… his twin brother. Ford swallowed hard and opened his mouth.

“S-so, uh, Stanley…” He started lamely. How could he confess his love to his brother? If things went to hell at least he was graduating soon and would go off to college if Stan disowned him and was disgusted by him. “I have a confession… and… well, you might find it weird. Weird even for you,” Ford could picture how Stan would smile hesitantly at that - too weird for Stanley? As if - “but I’ve been denying it for too long… I love you.” Ford’s cheeks burned as he said the words to his reflection. “N-not like that. Like…  _ love  _ love.” Ford sighed, his shoulders slumped, how lame could he be? It was impossible to find a way to not make his sick confession sound lame as hell.

“Hey there, Sixer.” Stan poked his head into the bathroom out of nowhere.

“Stanley!” Ford spun around and tried to ignore how hot his face felt. “W-what are you doing?”

Stan shrugged, “Heard ya talkin’ t’ someone. Whacha doin’ talkin’ t’ yerself?”

“I-I… It’s none of your business!” Ford snapped.

“Woah, woah,” Stan held his hands up in defense, “No need t’ snap at me, Sixer. I was just curious.”

Ford worried his lower lip. He felt funny. He didn’t mean to snap at Stanley. What had Stanley heard? Had he overheard his confession? Ford felt sweat gathering at the nape of his neck. He was praying to whatever higher power there could possibly be that Stanley hadn’t heard his name in Ford’s confession.

“You alright? Ya look sweaty and yer bitin’ yer lip again.” Stanley quirked an eyebrow and stepped into the bathroom a little more.

“I-I’m fine, Stanley.” Ford looked away, just saying his name again was making butterflies flutter in his stomach. “Just… I’m embarrassed okay? You should knock before you enter the bathroom.”

Stan rolled his eyes. “Jeez, no need t’ act so suspicious, Poindexter. Just thought ya would want help practicin’ cuz damn that confession was lame-”

“Stanley!”

“-I could give ya some pointers an’ actually be a real human t’ talk to and not yer reflection.”

Ford gulped and continued to avoid Stanley’s gaze. He couldn’t. He couldn’t practice confessing his love to the person he was going to confess to! No way. Nope. Wasn’t going to happen. Even if his confessing skills were lame and Stan would probably have some decent pointers - to confess to women though -

“I’ll be fine.” Ford finally hissed.

“Alright.” Stanley shrugged, “Suit yerself, but remember, Sixer, ya can always talk t’ me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to send me prompts at heartfeltword.tumblr.com!


	8. Practice - Stancest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got this sweet little prompt on my tumblr: I was wondering if you could write your previous prompt from Stan's pov? Like if he heard the full confession of not or actually helping Ford with his confession? All the while feeling a bit jealous over just who this person that his bro is confessing his feelings to be  
> and tada~ I'm a sucker for these nerdy boys.

Stan was just headed to his room when he heard Ford’s voice through the bathroom door. They were the only ones in the house so who the hell was he talking to? Himself? Probably, that nerd. Stan couldn’t help himself as he peeked into the bathroom through the cracked door. Ford really should learn to close the bathroom door even if he was alone - or almost alone.

Ford was staring himself down in the mirror. His face was flushed and he had a strange smile on his face. Nerd. Stan almost left until Ford started to speak again, “-but I’ve been denying it too long,” Oh ho! That caught Stan’s attention. Mister Science denying something? Was he going to admit he was wrong? And just what the hell was he doing talking to his reflection? “I love you.”

Stan’s heart thudded hard in his chest. Holy  _ shit _ . Ford was practicing confessing his love to someone. Jealousy spread through Stan’s entire body. He knew he shouldn’t be jealous; he should be happy that his nerdy bro found someone he liked but still. Stan wanted to tell Ford how he felt for a long time now but he figured it was weird and fucked up and probably some result of teenage hormones or whatnot.

“N-not like that. Like…  _ love  _ love.” Ford’s face was bright red and Stan felt his own face heating up. The way he said it… meant whoever he wanted to confess to was either a friend - which Ford had none - or someone who wouldn’t think anything of saying I love you. A guy maybe? Stan felt even more jealous at that and he couldn’t explain why. Ford sighed, his shoulders slumping forward and he looked absolutely defeated. Poor guy. Stan took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

“Hey there, Sixer.” Stan peeked into the bathroom.

\--

“Ya gotta look ‘em in the eyes.” Stan instructed. Ford was a nervous ball as the two sat on Stan’s bed trying to take pointers on how to confess. Stan tried to keep his own blush away, he was so close to his brother and he got to say all the things he wanted to say without it meaning anything! “C’mon Sixer, like yer givin’ some fancy speech.”

Ford glanced up, his face absolutely red and Stan wanted nothing more than to kiss him. No that was weird as shit. Stop. There’s no way Ford would ever return those feelings. “I-I…”

“C’mon, Sixer,” Stan huffed, “Why are ya so nervous? It’s just me, just yer brother.”

“I know.” Ford looked away and muttered something under his breath that sounded an awful lot like: “That’s the problem.”

“Huh? What was that?” Stan wasn’t positive what he heard but he wanted to know.

“N-nothing!” Ford’s face turned even redder if it were possible.

Stan sighed and rolled his eyes. “Alright, c’mon look at me, tell me ya love me.” Stan froze. Did he really just say that? Oh god. He had to cover that up fast. “Y-ya know like yer gonna confess t’ me or whatever.”

Ford glanced up through his eyelashes. Why were they so thick? He’d never seen eyelashes so thick on a girl before! They were beautiful. “I love you, Stanley.” Ford whispered.

Stan’s heart hammered and his mouth went dry. “I love you too, Stanford.”

Their eyes met and there was some weird twin mental telepathy.  _ Love  _ love. Stan couldn’t stop himself as he cupped Ford’s cheek. Ford was breathing hard, his eyes darting from Stan’s eyes to his lips. Stan couldn’t think, he was watching Ford so intently, he noticed how Ford licked his lips so slightly. If Ford didn’t want this he had plenty of time to pull away. Stan took the lack of movement as a good sign and eased himself forward. Slowly. He didn’t want to scare his brother. He wanted to give his brother all the time in the world to pull away because this wasn’t happening! Stan was  _ not _ about to kiss his twin.

Ford didn’t pull away. His eyes kept darting between Stan’s lips to his eyes. Stan could feel how hot his twin was under his palm. They were going to do this. They were going to kiss. It was so wrong but it felt perfect. Their lips barely grazed, Ford’s were so soft it shouldn’t be possible. Ford pulled away just a fraction of an inch and sucked in a deep breath. Stan froze. Ford had realized what he was doing and he was going to back out. Damn it! Stan should never had- Stan couldn’t finish his thought because Ford mashed his lips against Stan’s. It was too much, their teeth clanked together, their noses bumped, and it was anything but good.

“Woah,” Stan pulled away and rubbed his nose, “Sixer, ya gotta go slow.” Ford’s face turned bright red and he looked away. “B-but!” Stan hurried to remedy the situation, “it wasn’t bad… we can… try again?” Ford glanced up at Stan through those thick lashes and gave a slight nod. Stan grinned and took Ford’s face between his hands once again. Ford’s eyes closed and allowed Stan to move his face into a more comfortable position.

“Stanley! Stanford!” Their mother called from the doorway. The twins jerked away, their chests heaving and they stared at one another with wide eyes. They were gonna have to talk about this pretty soon but not now. Not with their mother in the house. Damn it!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to send me prompts at heartfeltword.tumblr.com!


	9. Extra Practice - Stancest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a request to continue my little Stancest drabbles. "So with those last two stancest drabbles, with Ford parcticing confessing and then the second one with them kissing. Is there anyway we could get a third installment of that, like after dinner when theyre alone in their room and trying to pick up where they left off (or maybe ma and pa go out dancing after dinner and they get the house to themselves haha). Those drabbles are just too prefect TuT thank you for your writing they are wonderful!"
> 
> And I went with it because who doesn't love cute Stancest with just a pinch of angst?

Dinner was awkward to say the least. Ma Pines asked several times if both her boys were ok because they were red but they brushed her away and she went back to chattering about the latest town gossip. Ford excused himself early, he had an essay to work on, leaving Stan to help pick up dinner with his mother.

“Are you sure you’re feeling ok, baby?” Ma asked, pressing the back of her hand to her son’s forehead. “You feel pretty warm.”  
“I’m fine, Ma.” Stan replied trying to keep his voice even. Ford wouldn’t even look at Stan during dinner. Stan knew he had crossed a line. He shouldn’t have kissed his twin. No way. He screwed up so much.

“Alright, well,” Ma frowned, “why don’t you just go to bed then? I’ll finish the dishes.”

“Are you sure?” His mother nodded and Stan excused himself. He avoided going straight to his room though where Ford would surely be. Instead he slipped into the bathroom and splashed some water on his face. How could he face his twin now? Ford had realized what Stan did and was disgusted by him and now Stan lost his best friend.

With a heavy sigh Stan headed towards his room. He couldn’t avoid it forever. He had to face Ford and tell him he was sorry or some shit like that. Stan pushed the door open and refused to look at his twin who was bent over his desk, instead he flopped face first onto his bed. Their room was painfully silent until Stan shifted and watched Ford work.

“Hey, Sixer?” Stan noticed his twin flinched and his heart constricted. “I, uh, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” Ford turned and quirked an eyebrow at his twin. He didn’t look mad but his face was a little pink and he was worrying his lower lip again.

“Y-yea, ya know… fer um…” Stan waved his hand around hoping his twin would get the picture.

“Oh.” Was all Ford said. Stan dropped his head onto his pillow. He screwed up so much. Ford cleared his throat and pushed his chair back causing a loud scrape against the floor. Stan glanced up and watched Ford come to sit on the edge of his bed. “I…” He cleared his throat again and turned to look at Stan. Stan propped himself up on his elbow and watched his twin. Ford met his gaze and held it. “I love you, Stanley.”

Stan’s heart skipped a beat. “I love you too, Stanford.”

“Can we kiss again?” Ford asked so softly Stan wasn’t sure he heard him.

“What? Are you sure?” Stan sat up a bit more. Ford’s cheeks turned bright red but he nodded. “Sixer, you, uh…” Stan wasn’t sure what to say. There was no way Ford wanted to kiss again. No way.

Ford worried his lip again before he slid forward on the bed and cupped Stan’s cheek. He edged closer and brushed their lips together. Stan closed his eyes and reached up to grab a fistful of Ford’s shirt. Stan could only hear the hammering of his heart as he kissed Ford. They shared slow and tentative kisses, taking their time to map each other’s lips. Ford stroked the edge of Stan’s cheek with his thumb before he pulled away. Despite the sweet little kisses Stan was breathing hard, like Ford had taken all the oxygen in the room. 

The two stared at one another for a moment before Stan slid his hand into Ford’s hair and pulled him in for another kiss. Ford hummed as Stan pressed his lips hard against his brother’s. The kiss quickly turned hot and heavy and both twins were panting whenever they’d part to suck in some air. Their faces were flushed and they were never apart for long. Ford put his hand on Stan’s shoulder and pushed. Stan hesitated for a moment before he leaned back onto the bed. Ford climbed on top of his twin and kissed him hard. Stan couldn’t stop a moan from escaping him as he clung to his twin. When Ford slid his tongue against Stan’s lips he opened them without hesitation. They kissed for what seemed like an eternity. Stan would pull away and give small pointers - less teeth, less spit - but he’d never kissed a guy before. He’d never been kissed so forcefully before either. But for whatever reason it felt right. It felt good that it was Ford. He trusted Ford so much and he loved him so much.

Ford pulled away and propped himself up above his twin. “Is this ok?” He asked.

“More than ok.” Stan sighed and let his eyes flutter close. “God, I love you, Sixer.”

“I love you too. Like…  _ love _ love.”

Stan snorted. He was the one Ford wanted to confess to. Stan draped his arm around Ford’s neck and pulled him down for another kiss. Ford smiled into the kiss. It was too good to be true. Stan sighed and leaned back into his bed.

“Babies?” Ma Pines called through the door, “Are you guys alright?”

Ford rolled off his twin so fast the bed creaked loudly in protest. Stan rolled his eyes and draped his blanket over the two of them. “Yea, we’re fine, Ma.”

“If you need anything let me know, ok?”

“Alright.” Stan called. They heard her walk back down the hallway leaving the twins in Stan’s bed breathing hard and bright red. Stan rolled onto his hip and smiled down at Ford. “So, you  _ love _ love me?”

Ford huffed and looked away. “Shut up and kiss me again, ya fool.”

“I don’t like being called a fool… but I do like kissing you.” Stan smirked as he grabbed the back of his twin’s neck and brought him in for another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always feel free to send me prompts at heartfeltword.tumblr.com!


	10. Dad Jokes - Fiddlestan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Figured this would do better in my drabble collection since it's only 350 words. Have some cute fluff.

“I make the best jokes, sorry.” Stan brushed Fiddleford away.

“Excuse me?” Fiddleford glared down at Stanley. “Unlike you, Stanley, I’m actually a dad.”

“Just because you’re a dad doesn’t mean you make the best dad jokes!” Stan shot back. “Besides, I’m as much a father to Tate as you are.”

Fiddleford blew a raspberry and walked towards the living room.

“Hey! I changed his diaper!”

“Once!” Fiddleford turned around, “And besides, he’s ten now! He hasn’t worn diapers in years!”

“I’m still like a father to him.”

Fiddleford pinched the bridge of his nose and continued to the living room. “Tate, can you come here for a minute?”

Stan huffed as he stopped beside Fiddleford, “Really?”

“Well, we’re the ones to subject him to our jokes, why not let him decide?”

“Makes sense I guess.” Stan admitted.

Tate wandered into the room and froze when he saw both his father and Stan standing there. “Whatever I did I’m sorry!” He blurted out.

Fiddleford quirked an eyebrow at his son, “Tate?”

Tate looked between the two before his face turned pink. “Nothing. Sorry. What did you need, Dad?”

“Who has the best dad jokes?” Fiddleford cut right to the chase.

Tate’s face was unreadable as he stared at the two adults. “Dad, I’m trying to do my homework is this really that important?”

“Of course it is, Tatertots!” Stan said with a grin.

“Both of your jokes are absolutely terrible.” Tate groaned. “Can I go now?”  
“But who has the worst ones?” Stan pressed. The “best” dad jokes were considered the worst by the children. Whoever was the worst was really the best.

“Dad,” Tate pointed to his father. “Stan, you’re jokes are bad but you’re not my actual dad.”

“Ha!” Fiddleford laughed and pointed to Stan.

“But, if it were just jokes and not dad jokes… Stan has ya beat, sorry, Dad.”

Stan turned and laughed at Fiddleford this time.

“Can I go do my homework again?” Tate asked.

“Yup, thank you, son.”

“Yea, thanks Tatertots!”

Tate groaned loudly as he left the living room to finish his homework.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to send me prompts at heartfeltword.tumblr.com!

**Author's Note:**

> First drabble I'd written in a long time.
> 
> Feel free to send me prompts at heartfeltword.tumblr.com!


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